Sanctuary
by Flaw's Revenge
Summary: Set six years before the movie. Jack has just arrived at the Mercer home. Rated for language and drug use.
1. Part 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I've only seen the movie once, so the characterizations are based on a faulty memory. Apologies.

> > > >

"Goddamn it!"

Bobby Mercer swung his arm behind him, grabbing the alarm clock and throwing it against the wall without ever opening his eyes. But the persistent beeping didn't stop. He cursed again before rolling over to see what time it was, but the clock, of course, was beyond it's time-telling days. A quick glance at the window told him it was early morning, and still too dark for any reasonable person to be calling him. But he kicked back the tangled sheets anyway and groped his way out of the bedroom and out to the couch where he crumpled into a heap before finally lifting the phone and grunting into handset.

"Bobby? Bobby it's your mother. Bobby, are you there?"

Bobby raised a hand to wipe at his eyes and try to banish the sleep that was still clinging to him. "Yeah, ma, it's me. It's early."

"I know, and I wouldn't call otherwise, but…"

She trailed off and Bobby could almost see her sitting there, clutching the phone in both hands in the kitchen, still fully dressed and worrying herself like she had for so many years over one of her charges.

"Who is it and what did they do?" he asked, coming more fully awake when he realized just how strange it was that she was calling him. If there was a problem with the house, she'd call Jerry, and if there was a problem with one of the kids, she'd go after them herself or if it was really bad just call the cops. Only once before had she sought him out, over a black boy seven years his junior who really need an older brother. But Angel was his brother now, and off being a jarhead. Uncle Sam was Angel's big brother for the time being.

"Just come home, Bobby. I need your help."

Bobby sat in the dark a moment and listened to her breathe on the other end. He peered around his two room palace and at the lump of his hockey gear, abandoned and thrown into the corner. He could make out the empty liquor bottles on the floor and the counter of the kitchenette, and really couldn't think of a single reason he shouldn't pack up and get the hell out of there as fast as he could.

"I can be there in four hours," he said.

"Thank you."

> > > >

He'd been in Detroit for only a month. A month of living at the Mercer place after his social worker had dropped him off with a helpful, "End of the line, kid." And that was it. Countless foster homes had come and gone, and maybe Evelyn Mercer hadn't hit him or locked him out of the house or worse yet, but he wasn't just going to sit around and wait for it to happen. So he was taking precautions.

That is to say, he was getting high. Every chance he got. With any means possible. He'd hocked just about everything he could get his hands on and shove under his jacket or into his tattered backpack. He'd ripped off teachers, and people on the streets, and even Evelyn Mercer. Besides, she was only going to railroad him out of her place the first chance she got, and more than that, he'd been using for too long to know how to function without it, to even want to function without it.

It was closing in on four in the morning and he hadn't been back to his foster home since getting up to go to school two days ago. Not that he had made it to school. He'd tried school before, and found that it was a waste of time to try when everyone had already pronounced you a lost cause. So just like almost every day since he'd arrived he'd sought out all the places he would have gone if he had been back in Lansing. Alleys. Overpasses. Warehouses. All the dark and creepy places that it turned out Detroit was bursting at the seams with. That particular day of skipping school it had taken him a little under an hour to find someone willing to deal. He couldn't really remember where he spent the first night, but he woke up in alley and spent the second day on the streets to support his habit. He was thin and fairly attractive, and had found out early that if he smiled, it was all too easy to get close to people, to get handouts and then wallets and purses when they let their guards down.

But now the second night was almost over, and with his buzz dying and the streets too quiet to find the stuff he wanted without the trouble he wanted to avoid, he turned his feet back towards his foster home, and the comfy, if used, bed he figured was probably waiting for him. He had just enough in his pocket that if Evelyn Mercer wanted to make a fuss, he'd take it to drown out the yelling or the hitting or whatever she wanted to throw at him, and then get the hell out of there.

> > > >

Bobby made the trip in 3 and a half hours, since there was little to no traffic on the freeways and even without the excessive speeding he would have made good time. He got out of the car around five am and grabbed his duffle out of his trunk. He started up the small walkway to find his mother holding the door open for him. She was still dressed, as he had expected, and while he could tell she was happy to see him, she was more worried about whatever it was that had him speeding home in the night to do anything other than grab him and hug him tightly.

"I called Jerry when I saw you pull up," she said after releasing him. "He's on his way."

"Ma…" he started, but she grabbed his duffle from him and started up the stairs.

"Have a seat on the couch. When Jerry gets here, we'll all talk together."

He watched her go upstairs and when she was out of sight, looked around the small living room. It was how he remembered it. It was always that way: neat and comfy, used but familiar. It smelled like her and like a hundred people had passed through, had sat on the couch or eaten at the dinner table. And it was true, even though it had been years since many other foster children had lived there, since when Bobby himself had arrived about 16 years ago, and Evelyn Mercer had adopted her first son. She was almost 60 now, and Angel, her third and youngest son had only recently moved out. Looking around the downstairs, he couldn't tell if there were any foster kids there or not. But if it wasn't foster kids, he didn't know what to think. Children were his mother's life, and he didn't know of anything else that would stress her out like she was.

He heard the door open and turned back to see Jerry coming in, looking like he hadn't slept, but then again, he had a baby at home and probably wouldn't have been sleeping anyway. Bobby was amazed that Jerry had turned into the family man, had found himself a wonderful woman and now they were having kids of their own. Of the three of them, it seemed Jerry had benefited the most under Evelyn's tutelage.

"Hey, bro," Jerry said, and the two embraced briefly before he headed toward the couch and slouched into it, closing his eyes and appearing ready to catch a quick nap before the shit hit the fan.

"Hey, Jer. You know what this is about?"

Jerry cracked a single eyelid to peer up at his older brother. "Only one thing it could be, Bobby," he said, and closed the eye again.

"Yeah?" he asked, already getting frustrated by being left in the dark since his mother's cryptic phone call hours earlier. "And what would that be?"


	2. Part 2

Bobby was facing the door when it opened again, and he could hear Evelyn coming down the stairs. He heard his mother sigh and Jerry snort, but he was looking at the figure standing there, staring back at him with wide eyes. It appeared that the problem was a foster child after all, one just as tall as him already, despite still being quite young.

"Jack…" Evelyn started, but the boy was gone and the door firmly slammed back into place before she could get any further.

"I'll go," Jerry said, getting up off the couch. "I'm not as scary looking as Bobby is," he quipped as he too went out the front door and back into the early morning.

Bobby turned to see his mother still watching the door, but she looked at him after a moment with a smile, bright just for him, and hiding whatever she was really feeling about this Jack kid. She gestured at the couch and they sat together, but she only leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She waved her hands helplessly for a moment and then stood again. Nervous energy.

"Ma, can I get you something? Or I can wait here while you get a little sleep or something?" he watched her pace across the living room and then head into the kitchen. He got up to follow her.

> > > >

He was screwed. Not only was Ma Mercer waiting around for him to show, but she had brought backup scarier than social workers or cops. She had brought her family.

And where did that leave him? So far, Jeremiah Mercer had been polite, if standoffish and perhaps a bit leery of him. And Jack supposed that he really had every right to be. He was a screw-up living in the house of the other man's mother. But the other two he had only seen in pictures and heard of on the streets. Bobby and Angel Mercer were frightening to him. They were dear to Evelyn and a very real presence in her home, in the photographs she kept in her purse and in her conversation. That and they looked ready to be very…aggressive, to anyone who might cause her any distress. So suddenly Bobby was there in the house and Jack did the first thing that any creature interested in its own well-being would: he got out there as fast as his brain came back online to tell his legs to get moving.

He took off as the door hit home behind him, but he was in no shape to keep up a flat out run for little more than a couple blocks. He turned a corner and stopped, bent over behind a fence and wheezing while he groped for the dope in his pocket. But it wasn't where he thought he had left it.

"Dammit," he whispered and searched more frantically. But he could already see in his mind's eye where it must have fallen.

"Jack, you little shit! Where the fuck are you?"

He crouched against the fence and pulled his legs in close to his body, grabbing his head with his arms and trying to make himself small. But as it was, Jeremiah still turned that same corner unerringly and came straight towards him.

"You left a little present on my ma's lawn, Jack. So either you come home with me, or I'm calling the cops and you can deal with people a lot less pleasant than sweet old Evelyn Mercer."

> > > >

Evelyn sat down at her dining room table and waited for Bobby to do the same. She grasped his hand between both of hers and smiled at him. Looking more closely, he could see what it was that had her so riled.

"You're going to adopt that kid?" he asked. "You dragged me here to tell me you found another lost cause?"

"I need your help on this one."

"I think Jer's got it covered," he said, gesturing towards the front of the house with his free hand.

"Not just that, Bobby. Jeremiah's going to bring him home, but I need more than that. He's got a family of his own, and Angel can't be here, so I'm asking you."

"Ma…" he stalled and looked away, but she only gripped his hand tighter.

"You helped me with Angel, and looked what a difference it made. I need you to be here for Jack too. You don't have stay longer than you can handle, but Bobby..." She trailed off to lift a hand and turn his chin to make sure he was looking her in the eyes. "He's your new little brother."

They locked eyes for a moment before Bobby nodded his consent.

"Anything for family, ma."

> > > >

Jeremiah stood in front of the form huddled on the ground and saw himself, years ago, scared shitless and not even knowing how to be anything else. He sighed and held the small bag of drugs in his hand. He was only 24 years old himself, but he already felt like it had been eons since he was in Jack's shoes. He already found it hard to empathize. And more than that, he was pissed that the new foster kid was bringing drugs into his mother's house and stress she didn't need while she was getting older into her life.

He shoved the drugs in his pocket and leaned over to grab an arm and pull, and Jack followed easily. He was loose, and Jeremiah was struck again with a memory, or rather a knowing, that if you kept loose and easy, then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much when your body hit a wall or took a nasty spill. He pursed his lips and said, "Come on." Jack didn't put up any resistance, though he did walk slower than Jerry would have liked, causing him to keep a tight hold on the arm in his hand, sometimes pulling it to get the boy to come along more quickly.

"You walk like you're going to an execution," he mumbled under his breath.

"Aren't I?"

But when Jerry snapped his head to the side to see what sort of expression was on his face, Jack's head was turned away and down. Familiar. He wasn't sure that Jack had looked at him once. He knew his mother dwelt on it. Spent her time wondering why the new boy wouldn't look her in the eye, why he spaced off on a table top or the floor or the ceiling. Non-confrontational, Evelyn called it, but Jerry saw hiding and scared. He sighed again and loosened his grip a little. It probably wasn't going to get them anywhere if Jack ended up with bruises.

"It's not an execution," he said. "Just a little time with Miss Evelyn and Bobby. You haven't met him yet…"

Jerry looked again at the side of Jack's face, and found his annoyance returning.

"He bites," he said.

Jack's head snapped back to look at him, but caught quickly that he was being teased and the head went back down.

Jeremiah laughed the rest of the way home.


	3. Part 3

Thanks to everyone who took the time to review! As a note to stave off confusion, I took the actors' real ages and subtracted six years. Thus, Evelyn is 58, Bobby is 28, Jerry is 24, Angel is 21, and Jack is 14. (If my math is bad, send me a note and I'll look into it.) :)

> > > >

"I looked into placing him, Bobby. It's not going to work. Families take one look at his file, see how old he is, see what he's coming from, and they move on down the line." Evelyn got up to pour herself a cup of coffee, but Bobby waved her off when she sent a questioning look his way.

"I look at that file and see a kid who needs a family. I see a kid who could really use an older brother…or three." She smiled and sat again, sniffing at the warm cup in her hands like she could absorb the caffeine right through the air.

"And before you point it out, yes, I know it won't be easy. But raising you was anything but easy Bobby Mercer." She drank at her coffee and chuckled. "You were such a little hellion." She looked him over where he sat. He was wearing worn jeans over work boots and a tattered t-shirt that barely covered some of his tattoos. She could see scars here and there, some that she recognized, and some that she noticed because she was his mother and mothers knew where to look. "You still are."

"I ain't a hellion, ma," he said and slouched back in his chair, looping one arm over the back to turn his body so he had a better angle with which to watch his mother. "I'm reformed," and he winked at her.

"You sure are," she said and laughed out loud. He joined her.

The door opened and slammed shut again but they kept laughing together. They were still smiling when Jeremiah came up to the table, pulling an armful of Jack behind him.

"Look what I found," he said, and released the arm, going to grab some coffee for himself.

"We never doubted you, Jerry," Bobby replied, but kept his eyes on Jack, who was dutifully watching the floor.

Jerry came up behind Evelyn, coffee mug in one hand and a small bag in the other, which he passed over his mother's shoulder and onto the table. She looked at it only briefly and went back to watching Jack. Bobby grabbed it and held it up to the light. "At least tell me you're smoking the good stuff, Jackie," he said. He shook it lightly. "Looks like you ain't."

Jack shot him a glance from beneath messy bangs. "You gonna tell me where to find the good stuff?"

Bobby threw the bag back onto the table. "Shit no. You lookin' for handouts?"

Jack's fists clenched but he didn't make a move. Bobby laughed some more. He looked at his mother and wished that he came home more often; he didn't usually find a reason to laugh so much.

Evelyn looked between the two and then cleared her throat. "Jack, go on up to bed and get some rest. We'll talk when you wake up."

Jack hesitated for a moment, clearly expected something other than an invitation to keep staying in her house, but he only nodded after a while and moved off. Evelyn watched after him until they heard him on the stairs and then a door shut above their heads.

Bobby handed the bag to her and she took it gingerly, letting her fingers move softly over the creased plastic. "You boys ever get into this crap?" she asked.

Jerry sat across from Bobby and shook his head no, and Bobby shook his head, too. "Not enough to be buying it off the street like he's gotta be doing. That's the shit's gonna kill you faster than most. Talking to people he shouldn't, searching 'em out."

> > > >

Jack sat down on the bed in the small room. The sunlight was already coming through the window and he looked at the pillow, wondering if he could go to sleep long enough that when he woke up Bobby and Jeremiah would be gone and Evelyn would have forgotten all about him even being there. But he didn't think so. One of his foster fathers used to tell him that no amount of wishing was going to make him invisible. Then he would prove it.

But Jack shuddered to even approach those memories and instead moved over to the closet, opening it and looking down on the guitar in the corner. He'd found it when he'd first arrived, figuring it was something Evelyn had picked up when she was younger or that maybe a relative had left to her when they moved out of the city. It didn't really matter. All he knew was that when he held it, and strummed it a little, he felt a feeling come over him almost better than getting high. His fingers held enough memory in them of the couple times older kids had shown him some basics in some home or another that he was picking up fast. He carried it back to the bed with him and sat down, playing until he was calm enough to lay it down beside him and go to sleep.

> > > >

"Heard from Angel, recently?" Bobby asked. He and Jeremiah were still seated at the table. Evelyn had moved off to whip up something for breakfast, even though all had agreed they weren't actually that hungry. But Evelyn was an active mother, and at the very least they would be having bacon and eggs.

"Ma got a postcard. He says he's doing well, that he likes it." Jeremiah took another sip of his coffee.

"So he hates it and wants to come home, eh?"

"You know it, brother. He's been in for going on two years now. I bet he re-ups."

"I'll take that bet. Loser has to look after Jack."

"Then I guess you've already lost because you're not getting out of it and I've got a baby of my own at home." Jerry looked down at his watch. "Her mother's probably already worried."

"Probably." Bobby looked at the doorway where they could see Evelyn's back as she moved around the stove. He turned back to Jerry and asked in a low voice, "This is bad as it's been or is there something else I should know?"

But Jerry only shrugged and responded equally as softly. "You know almost as much as I do, Bobby. Kid shows up a month ago. I met him a couple times. He don't say much, don't seem like he does much except take off for days at a time." He shrugged again. "I didn't know there was really a problem until she called me this morning and we end up with drugs in the house."

They both looked up as Evelyn came in the room with plates loaded with breakfast foods. "Something on your minds, boys?" she asked.

"Just talking about how much I was missing your home cooking, ma," Bobby said, and the three dug in to eat.


	4. Part 4

Thanks again for the reviews, and sorry if these are short. I'm trying to write a few pages every day in my free time and then get them up ASAP. Hope everyone enjoys!

> > > >

Jack woke up with a headache and an appetite. But his taste was running less towards food and more towards something he felt would last him a bit longer. So maybe the morning had been a slight setback, but he had stolen from Evelyn before. He didn't think that this could be that much different.

He got out of bed and stored the guitar back in the closet before finding clean boxers and changing. He left the room and went into the hallway towards the bathroom, listening for any sounds of life in the house. He heard none. He finished up his business in the bathroom, brushing his hair out of his eyes with his fingers and rinsing his mouth with water. He looked in the mirror and saw bags under blood shot eyes and a rather pasty complexion. Typical, but if he couldn't get his drugs back from Evelyn he could always go out and get people to give him money because he looked like he didn't have enough food. His stomach rumbled and he realized that that was mostly true anyway.

He left the bathroom and went into Evelyn's room. The bed was nicely made and everything was put away except for the usual basket of clean laundry waiting for her attention next to the door. He opened the top drawer of the dresser and carefully searched through it, and likewise all the other drawers. But he found nothing. Similarly in her closet and everywhere else he could think to look. Finally, he gave up and went downstairs, careful to avoid the places he knew would creak.

There was no one in the living room, and he still didn't hear anything. He searched there as well, but still found nothing. He was about to go into the kitchen when a hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped, moving quickly into the kitchen and spinning to see who had come up behind him.

It was Bobby.

"What'cha doing, Jackie? Something I might be able to help you out with?" Bobby kept coming towards him and he continued backing up until his back hit the counter on the far wall.

"I was looking for something to eat," he mumbled.

"In the living room?" Bobby stopped right in front of him, and Jack gripped the counter in both hands and turned his head to the side, seeking out and finding a nice open spot of linoleum.

"Sometimes there's candy out there," he said.

Bobby watched him for a while before saying, "Ma understands that kids usually got a sweet tooth. You got a sweet tooth, Jackie?"

Jack didn't say anything.

"I think you got a sweet tooth for something other than candy. That what you're looking for? Candy good enough to smoke?"

Jack still didn't say anything. Bobby gave him another hard long look and then moved back into the living room, throwing himself into a sprawl on the couch and turning on the TV. Jack stayed in the kitchen.

"Where's Evelyn?" he asked finally.

"Who?"

"Evelyn."

Bobby wasn't even looking at him, just studying the TV as he flipped the channels. "I don't know no Evelyn."

"Miss Mercer."

"What about her?"

Jack blow out a frustrated breath of air and went instead to the refrigerator. He pulled out some leftovers and microwaved them, then sat down at the table. If Bobby was going to be difficult, then he didn't see any reason he should talk to him at all.

But Bobby seemed to have different plans, and as soon as the fork hit his mouth, Bobby was standing in the doorway.

"She went out."

Jack knew he was supposed to ask where she went, but he didn't take the bait and just kept on eating.

"She'll be back in a bit."

Still he said nothing. Bobby came up to the table and sat across from him.

"She had to go talk to some people, get some papers signed."

Jack fidgeted a little. Papers weren't usually good news. Then again, maybe she just had to pay the cable bill or something.

"I think she said she was going to go talk to some guy named Johnson."

Jack dropped his fork. That was not good news. Paul Johnson was his social worker. Paul Johnson was a real bastard. Jack pushed his chair back from the table and got up. He walked past Bobby, through the living room and up the stairs. He went into his room and closed the door behind him. Under the bed he found his duffle and in the dresser he found his clothes and started to pack up. He hesitated at the closet and stared at the guitar for a moment. That had been the really good thing about Evelyn's house; he always had the guitar there when he got back.

He put on his jacket and swung the duffle over his shoulder, closed the bedroom door behind him and went back downstairs. Bobby was back on the couch. He could hear the Tigers game in the background.

"You going somewhere?" Bobby still didn't look at him.

Jack stared straight ahead at the door. Anyone who saw them there could barely have noticed they were even talking to each other.

"Out, I guess."

"Yeah, where to?"

Jack played with the strap of the duffle.

"Dunno."

"Because Jerry had to go home, and if I have to come after you, I'd rather you just tell me where you're going now. Save me some time."

"You don't need to come after me."

Bobby got up off the couch and came to stand in front of him.

"Yeah, I do."

Jack looked away.

"Because I can't have my little brother out there buying drugs."

Jack tensed.

"Little brother?"

"Ma promised to kill me if I let you out of my sight."

"Little brother?" Jack asked again.

"And around here, you better not let her or me catch you calling her Evelyn, or even Miss Mercer. Her kids call her Ma."


	5. Part 5

Wow the reviews. You guys make me blush. :) I hope this lives up to expectations, although you probably would have liked more Bobby and Jack and less Evelyn and bureaucracy. I'm giving another disclaimer now too, which is that I'm relying on imagination and the internet for procedural information about adoption and other tidbits that come up along the way of writing this (like hockey…I went to a game once and that's about all I got…but that chapter is a while in the coming). All errors are mine, and suggestions/corrections are always welcome.

> > > >

"You want to do what?" Paul Johnson was incredulous. Evelyn Mercer, however, was adamant.

"You heard me, Paul. And you've dealt with me before. Don't tell me you didn't see this coming."

The two were seated in a small dingy office, where the one small window gave a beautiful view of the brick wall next door and the coffee maker gave off the smell of grinds left to rot. Evelyn had tried not to give the place more than just a cursory once-over when she'd walked in, but couldn't really help herself. There was mold covering the window frame and marching across the ceiling, and the carpet was dirty and stained and she was grateful that she was wearing closed-toe shoes to avoid whatever might be living in it. She tried to picture Jack sitting in the office, waiting for Johnson to tell him again that there was no luck finding a place for him, that there was only a little old retired woman who used to foster the worst of them. She imagined Johnson telling him he was one of the worst.

It pissed her off.

Then again, she half-wondered if Johnson didn't need to be adopted himself.

"I told you about this kid when I placed him with you, Mrs. Mercer--"

"Miss Mercer."

Johnson gave her an annoyed look.

"I told you there was a drug problem. Now you come to me like you're surprised. I told you there was abuse, that you wouldn't get through to him. And now you're saying it back to me like it's one of Sherlock's mysteries or something and you've been sent especially to crack it. Well, lady, it's not going to work that way. I've seen kids like this before. There's nothing you can do."

Paul Johnson sat back in his chair, which Evelyn marveled could even hold his weight, and steepled his fingers across his fat belly like he had just saved her from something and she should be grateful to him. Smug.

She gave up on adopting him too and just really wanted to smack him one. She was tempted to call Bobby and get him to do it for her. All she'd have to do was say he had been mean to her…

She sighed. Bobby wasn't her own professional thug. No matter how much it might seem like it some of the time.

"Mr. Johnson. Look at it this way, if you want. I adopt Jack, and he's off your list. You obviously don't want anything to do with him, and I do. Let me take care of him."

Johnson studied her for a while, but it wasn't like he was about to argue himself out of a pretty good sounding deal.

"Alright, Miss Mercer. Let's get that petition moving. If we get started today, he'll be yours in only six months or so."

> > > >

Bobby was back on the couch, and the game was still on the set. This time, Jack sat on the couch as well, but as far away from the older man as possible. He clutched his duffle bag on his lap and tried to coax his brain into telling him what the hell he should do with it.

As he saw it, his options were a) settle back in and wait for Miss Mercer to come home and simultaneously welcome him to the family and kick his ass for being a screw-up or b) run for it and hope that his practice stint that morning would carry him further from Bobby than he had made it from Jeremiah. And since neither of those was looking too good at the moment, he opted for just sitting on the couch until a decision was eventually made for him.

It turned out he didn't have to wait long as he jumped up off the couch when the phone rang and was already moving towards the door but for a strong hand that caught the back of his jacket and pulled him right back down onto the couch while it's owner answered the phone at the same time. He spaced for a moment, not quite sure what he had been intending to do after leaving his seat, and was startled back by Bobby snapping his fingers in front of his face.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Jack looked up at him, phone pressed against the side of his face and clearly frustrated.

"No."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "No shit. Ma wants to know if there's anything you want her to pick up for dinner."

Jack shrugged. "I dunno."

"No surprise there either. Hope you like beef." And there it was. Bobby had chosen dinner for him, and at the same time chosen option 'a' for him without even realizing he was doing it.

Bobby moved off with the phone and Jack watched him go, trying to reconcile the man in front of him with the image of the caring, loving older brother that he kept inside his head. No dice. With Bobby, it seemed to be what you see is what you get and if you don't like it well tough shit, he couldn't really care less. It was going to take Jack some getting used to, but if Evelyn came home and Bobby wasn't just yanking his chain and he really did get to stick around, then he thought it could be interesting to see how it all turned out.

"She'll be home in an hour."

"Okay."

"You might want to put your stuff back upstairs."

Jack looked back down at the duffle like he had forgotten it was there.

"And you might want to think of what you're going to say when I tell Ma you were rummaging through her room."

Jack didn't look up. The duffle was suddenly the most intriguing thing in the world.

"Sometimes there's candy," Bobby mocked in a high nasal voice. "It'd better be a better excuse than that."

Jack looked at him. Bobby looked back and raised an eyebrow. Jack reached forward to the coffee table and picked up a chocolate, then dropped it on Bobby as he turned to go upstairs to get rid of his duffle bag. He heard a rustle, and then felt the balled up wrapper hit him in the back on the way.


	6. Part 6

Thanks again to everyone who took the time to drop a note, and even more thanks to zanderbaby45 for offering to help me with the hockey details. I may take you up on that eventually if that's okay, but like I said before, it'll be a while :)

> > > >

Evelyn Mercer walked into her front door and was assaulted by the noise of the TV. She didn't particularly care for sports, herself, but even so was glad to find the damage being done on her ears was due to a friendly game of baseball instead of that violent hockey of which her boys were so fond.

She greeted Bobby with a friendly, "Help me get the groceries in the house," as she walked through the living room to the kitchen.

Bobby left through a still open door, and she unpacked her bags as she listened to the car door slam, and then the front door slam. Bobby walked heavily into the kitchen behind her and dumped his things on the table. Evelyn was grateful that she had learned early to always bring in eggs and other breakables herself.

"Something on your mind?" she asked, as more items disappeared into the fridge and the cupboards.

"Less of a something on my mind and more of a monkey on my back."

"You're calling Jack a problem?" She had steaks in her hands and held them up for Bobby to see. "Want to grill out?"

"Yes and no," he said, taking the steaks and placing them on the counter near the stove as he preheated the oven. "Too much effort to grill out today."

"Because if we're talking about monkeys, maybe we should talk about his."

Bobby grabbed the mushrooms, a knife, and the cutting board and went over to the table to sit. Evelyn followed him with other vegetables and a bowl to make a salad, but grabbed the knife out of his hands as mushrooms started being chopped into bits instead of slices.

"How long has he been using?" he asked.

Under Evelyn's hands, vegetables turned almost magically into presentation-level food. Bobby watched her and felt calmer. Mother was there, and she would take care of it.

"We're not really sure," she said. "Paul Johnson and I didn't really spend too much time on the subject, not today, not the day I first met with him about Jack, and not any time in between. He's not that worried about it."

"Why not?"

"Here, wash the lettuce." She began work on some peppers. Bobby got out a colander and went over to the sink. "He's not worried because he thinks, as do I, that it's not the worst of his problems. More than that, I think that it'll probably clear up with more positive influences in his life."

"You mean people patient enough to say no first and hit later?"

Evelyn came up behind him and swatted him before taking the finished lettuce.

"People patient enough to not hit at all."

The lettuce went into the bowl with the peppers and some other additions, and the steaks went into the oven. The mushrooms went on the stove.

"Jack eats salad?" Bobby asked.

"Surprisingly yes, for a teenage boy. You could learn from him." They sat back down at the table together to wait. "Is he hiding in his room again?"

"Last I checked, unless he's back to rooting through yours or the other rooms in the house."

"I trust he hasn't been successful."

"Unless he's going to check in the sewer I think he's going to be out of luck."

They sat not talking for a while until Evelyn gestured for Bobby to set the table and went to the foot of the stairs, turning the TV off on the way.

"Jack!" she called. "Dinner's almost ready."

There was no response, so she climbed the stairs and approached the closed bedroom door. She knocked lightly, and called his name again through the door. Still nothing.

Downstairs, Bobby finished setting the table for three and then pulled the steaks out of the oven and got the mushrooms off the stove. He stood in the doorway and waited, then raised an eyebrow at his mother when she came back downstairs alone.

"Ma?" he asked. "Where's Jackie at?"

Evelyn looked back at him and shrugged. "I don't know, Bobby. I wasn't even aware that I had a door going outside from the second floor."

"Shit."

> > > >

Jack had found the room Bobby was currently sleeping in to be the perfect launching off point for his mission to eliminate his hunger. From there, he could crawl out onto the roof of the garage, and then it was only a ten foot drop to the ground. He had really wanted to wait to see what Evelyn would say about meeting with Johnson when she got home, but sometimes things were unavoidable.

And so, he had used the loose change in his pocket to hop a bus downtown and gotten off approximately where he had scored two days before. From there, it was all too easy.

"Well, well, well. Look who's back. Little cracker just can't get enough."

Jack was surprised that he would have found the exact same dealer. The last time had been a quick exchange without names or any sort of small talk. The figure in the shadows looked similar, but he hadn't really paid close enough attention before to be able to say for sure. Not that it really mattered to him, except that maybe it would work out in his favor and he could buy more easily on credit.

Jack shuffled his feet and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I need a hit."

The dealer stepped a little further out of the shadows and nodded towards Jack's pockets. "What you got for me?"

"Nothing, but I'm good for it."

"Yeah, how do I know that?"

"I paid you once already," he said, even though he was becoming less and less certain that he had actually dealt with this person before. They were too aggressive, too talkative. "This time it's just going to take a little longer."

The dealer shrugged, non-committal. "What do you need?"

Jack fidgeted. "I was hoping you might have something a little stronger."

This time the dealer smiled wide and stepped even closer to Jack. "I could probably do that, but you're going to have to put down a little collateral."

"Like what?"


	7. Part 7

Well, it's been awhile, but here we go, another chapter. I'd just like to say that I haven't at all forgotten what happened in the last chapter with Jack and the drug dealer…I'm just not telling you yet.  My disclaimer now is that I haven't gotten the chance to rent or buy the movie yet, so I'm still working on a memory of a single viewing that's now several months past. My apologies for the delay and for the moments when Jack and Bobby seem out of character, and my sincere thanks to everyone who reviewed. Hope you enjoy.

> > > >

He was wandering downtown when Bobby spotted him. He caught the glimpse of a leather coat turning a corner and pulled off to the side of the road, double parking an old pickup that didn't look like it was going anywhere soon. He got out of the car, locked it behind him and heading around the same corned he had seen Jack turn. There he was, a few feet from a bus stop, looking uncertain and maybe not completely steady on his feet. Bobby came up next to him slowly and quietly, and kept his hands out and down and his best approximation of non-threatening when Jack turned his head to see him there. But Jack only turned his head back to staring at the bus stop.

"You're at the wrong stop if you're heading home," he said.

Jack nodded and wrung his hands, which Bobby only raised an eyebrow to see were shaking.

"How'd you find me?" Jack still wasn't looking at him.

"I've been driving around for damn near three hours. How'd I find you? Ma told me to take care of it or she wasn't going to feed me shit." Bobby stuck his hands in his pockets and stared with Jack at the bus stop. There was an older man sitting on the bench, clutching a cane between withered hands. They stared for a while, until a bus came and took the old man away. Jack and Bobby watched him go, and then Jack went and filled his place on the bench. Bobby came up behind him and leaned against the bench, staring in the opposite direction.

"You got a plan?" he asked, and saw Jack shrug out of the corner of his eye.

"Not really."

"Ok," he said, and settled himself in where he was leaning. He'd been hungry for three hours. He figured he could do a few more.

A few more buses came and went, and for a while a younger looking woman sat next to Jack and Bobby thought about flirting, but she was gone before he had thought of anything even remotely witty to say.

"Are you high?" he finally asked, because he couldn't think of anything to say to Jack either, and blunt had always been his strong suit.

Jack clutched his hands to keep the tremors down and shook his head. "No."

"Ok," he said again, and again a bus stopped, opened its doors and pulled away disappointed. "Do you know where your birth certificate is?"

Jack turned his head towards him, and Bobby turned his head as well to catch a small frown working its way over Jack's features.

"My birth certificate?"

"Ma was wondering if you knew."

"Doesn't Johnson have it?"

"I wouldn't be asking you if he did."

Jack shrugged, and Bobby rolled his eyes even though Jack wouldn't see it. He was getting tired of the game.

"Alright, Jackie, enough of this; it's dark and I'm cold. I'm going to go get the car. Get your fare ready," and Bobby left the bench and the bus stop and walked back around the corner and got in the car. The pickup sat as dejected as it was when he had first parked it in. He turned the car on and let it warm up, half expecting Jack to have disappeared again by the time he got to the bus stop, but he pulled up to the bus stop and looked out the passenger side window and Jack was still there, still non-responsive. He stared down at his shoes for awhile before getting up from the bench and opening the door.

"I don't have any money," he said, still not looking Bobby in the eye.

"No shit," Bobby said. "Fifty fucking busses go by and you think I don't know you don't got any money? Get in the damn car."

Jack slid into the seat and pulled the door shut after him quietly. He clutched his hands together and Bobby stared at them with him for awhile.

"You think if I take the long way home you can stop that shit?"

Jack shook his head.

"Alright, then you think if I take the long way home you can think of a reason to give Ma why they're doing that?"

Jack shook his head. "I'm not high."

"Yeah, you said that already."

They road in silence for a while, then Jack said, "That bag, the one from before…"

Bobby snorted. "Jerry flushed it."

"Are you sure?" he asked, "because if I could just have a little, maybe my hands will stop shaking."

"I'm sure." Bobby said and took a corner perhaps a bit more sharply than needed. "You're not doing shit like that in Ma's house. Eat something when we get there; you'll feel better."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're kidding me. You haven't eaten anything, shit, since I been here."

Jack shrugged again, and Bobby pulled the car up in front of the Mercer house and turned it off. "Let's go," he said, and came around the car while Jack got out and followed him up the sidewalk and into the house.

Evelyn was sitting on the couch when they came in, knitting and listening to the radio. She looked up and nodded a bit, then put her needles away. "It's about time you boys got here. Now I can go to bed." She stood and looked at them expectantly. "Well?"

Bobby looked like he wanted to say something, but swallowed it and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Night, Ma."

She smiled at Bobby and moved past him to give a Jack a pat on the shoulder as she turned to go upstairs. "Goodnight, Jack."

He watched her go and then turned to find Bobby scowling at him.

"Now look, I have to make my own dinner."

Jack was about to shrug again but Bobby shot a hand out and pressed down on his shoulder. "Save it. I've had all the non-verbal answers I can take from you today. Let's go see what we can find in the fridge."


	8. Part 8

AN: Well, after promising too many people for what…2 years? that I wasn't going to finish this or work on it, here it is, a new chapter. I can promise this: the epic that it was once destined to be is no longer possible. I have lost all my notes and outlines due to computer failure shortly after posting Part 7 (Dec. 31, 2005!) but I will do my best to wrap this up. I hope that if anyone out there is still reading, this at least partially lives up to expectations.

* * *

"I'm not high," Jack said, like repetition would convince Bobby of something he was already convinced. He knew Jack wasn't high, and he knew Jack knew the shaking wasn't going to stop until he was high or he was clean. 

Bobby was pulling for clean.

"I know," he said. "Shut up about it already."

Jack had pulled the salad out of the fridge and set it on the table, while Bobby had forgone the steaks to grab lunch meat and bread. Steaks would be wasted on a guy who couldn't cook and a kid too strung out to even notice what was going in his mouth. Food was probably going to taste like ash to Jack anyway, that is, if he managed to eat anything at all.

Jack had a knife and the mayo ready to go, but Bobby, suddenly concerned about missing fingers, grabbed the knife away from him.

"Get some plates," he said. "I'll do this. I don't want you to mess mine up."

Jack set out two plates and two bowls for salad and two forks, and then sat down in front of the plates. He didn't say anything while Bobby whipped together turkey and mayo like his life depended on it. He was so hungry that maybe it did.

"I'm not high because I don't have any money," Jack admitted when his plate finally held a finished sandwich. He didn't move to touch it, and he was keeping his hands out of sight.

"Okay," Bobby said. "No one here is going to help you with that."

"I know that."

"Then why are we still talking? Eat your damn sandwich." Bobby was shoveling food into his mouth between words, and eyeing Jack's sandwich while he chewed.

Jack stared down at his plate, at the floor, at anything but Bobby. "Because he asked me for something else."

"What?"

"He asked me for something else."

Bobby put his food down. "I heard you the first time, genius. What did he ask you for?"

Jack hesitated, and Bobby pushed his plate away, stomach suddenly clenched in anticipation of something he really did not want to hear.

"No wait, if it was sex or something nasty, I don't wanna hear about it."

Jack blanched and looked like he was going to throw up on an empty stomach. Bobby winced in sympathy for potential dry heaves.

"It wasn't that. I wouldn't do that."

Bobby felt relief rush through him and reached out to reclaim his sandwich. He chewed slowly and looked at Jack out of the corner of his eye.

Jack finally reached up with one hand to poke at his own sandwich, but he didn't pick it up, just started to pick apart the bread.

"Hey," Bobby said, "that's a perfectly good sandwich. Don't wreck it."

Jack kept picking.

"I think it was a different guy," he said. "But he knew me."

Bobby finished his sandwich and reached out to grab the salad bowl. He dumped a pile directly on his plate and started picking out the peppers and the olives and all the other remotely healthy bits. When it was sufficiently picked through, he got up from the table to grab dressing out of the fridge and had his head all the way into it while he looked around for what he wanted.

Jack said, "He knew you, too," and Bobby cursed a blue streak when his head hit the top of the inside of the fridge in his haste to turn back around.

"What the fuck?" he asked, reaching a hand up to rub at the sore spot.

Jack had been pale before, but now he looked whitewashed, so scared he had stopped shaking. He was finally looking at Bobby and his eyes were as wide as saucers.

"What the fuck?" Bobby repeated, louder.

Jack still said nothing. Bobby stalked back to the table, salad dressing clenched tightly in one hand.

"Why would a fucking drug dealer be asking about me, Jackie? Huh? What the hell did he want? What the fuck did you tell him?"

Jack stared up at him while he loomed over him, and finally bolted around the other side of the table and out the kitchen door. Bobby watched him go, then sat down heavily in Jack's chair and started chewing on his sandwich. He set the dressing down next to the plate and stared at the bottle like it was responsible for the mess they were in now.

* * *

Jack didn't stop running until he was up in his room. He shut the door behind him and crouched in the corner made by the bed and wall. He was in such deep shit now. 

He realized when he put his head down into his hands that he was shaking again, which he took as a small sign of improvement. Bobby had scared the tremors right out of him for a while.

He waited for the knock on the door, or more likely, the thunder the door would make when Bobby came flying through it.

But nothing happened.

* * *

Bobby finished the sandwich and walked upstairs, but he didn't go to Jack's room. Instead, he knocked lightly on Evelyn's door. 

He entered when he heard her call out her permission, and inside he found her sitting up, reading. He half suspected she was actually skimming words while waiting for the fall out from Bobby's evening journey out to find Jack.

"Ma," he said, but didn't get any further. She was looking at him like she already knew about whatever lies he was about to tell her. She always knew with her boys when there was something going on that they just couldn't tell her about, and they always knew that they could count on her to be there for them when they got in over their heads. She was tough, and fierce, but Bobby had a feeling he knew who Jack had talked to, and he knew that he didn't want her involved.

"Is it anything you can't handle?" she asked.

"I don't think so," he said.

"Is Jack going to be okay?"

"I'll take care of him," he said.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"You know me, Ma. I've got this under control."

She turned away from him, back to her book. "That's always what I'm afraid of, Bobby."


	9. Part 9

So writing this I felt like I was finally getting somewhere with the plot and the what-not. If I had to estimate I'd say maybe five more chapters, although I'd like to do it in less and finally have this not hanging over my head anymore, which isn't to say that I don't still like Four Brothers and the fic, but just that it's been too long, for which I again apologize to any and all of you waiting.

* * *

It was early morning and Bobby looked out the window to see it was still dark out before he took stock of the situation. Something had woken him up.

He was tired of being woken up.

He got out of bed and crept over to the door. He waited until he heard it again, and then forwent caution to pull open the door and head towards the bathroom. The lights were out, but he didn't need to see what he knew was in front of him anyway.

He grabbed a towel and got it wet before handing it down to the figure kneeling in front of the toilet.

"Shake it off, kid," he said, then sat down heavily and leaned against the wall.

"Can't," Jack said between heaving and sobbing into the toilet.

"How long's this been going on?" Bobby asked, trying to make himself comfortable on the hard floor.

He saw Jack's shoulders hunch in the approximation of a shrug. "Maybe an hour. I woke up like this."

"There a mess in your room?"

"No." Jack finally pulled back from the porcelain altar and rubbed his face with the towel. "I made it here in time."

Bobby nodded in relief even though Jack couldn't see it. "You been through this before?"

Jack turned around to face him, leaning back against the sink. He shook his head slowly, like he was afraid too much would send him back over the toilet. "Not sick like this."

They were quiet a while, and even in the dark Bobby could tell that Jack was still shaking. He thought about waking Evelyn.

Jack broke the silence by whispering, "Are you sure Jeremiah flushed it, Bobby? Because it would help a lot if I could just have a little hit."

Bobby sighed. "It's gone. It's gone and you're done with that fucking shit, Jackie, so get used to the idea."

"Don't tell Miss Mercer, okay?"

"Ma," he corrected. "Why not? She knows you've been using. What difference would it make?"

"I don't want her to know I've been sick. I can handle this."

Bobby sighed again. He was exhausted and it was way too early for that kind of bullshit. "Come on," he said, and climbed back up to his feet before reaching down to pull Jack up, too. "Rinse out your mouth and get back to bed."

Jack did as he was told, and Bobby followed him back to his room to make sure there wasn't a mess after all. Not that he would be the one cleaning it up or anything. He just wanted to check.

He watched Jack clamber in between the sheets and grip them like that could make the shaking stop. Evelyn thought he could help this kid. He was starting to get the feeling not much could help. But what the hell, when it doubt, fall back on the old standby.

"You ever played hockey, Jackie?"

"No," Jack whispered back through clenched teeth. Bobby hoped they weren't clenched against a repeat of the bathroom theatrics. "I don't know how to skate."

"Huh. Well, all the Mercer boys play hockey. So you're just going to have to learn fast." Bobby pulled the door shut and went back to his own bed. Maybe they could knock a little more sense into Jack on the ice. Maybe they could knock all the drugs and fucked-up crap right out of him.

* * *

Evelyn woke up feeling much better about the Jack situation than she had in days. Even though something was going on with Bobby, she knew that having him here was doing a world of good for her youngest boy. Now if she could only find that birth certificate and get the rest of ball rolling.

She was cleaning up her own breakfast when she heard movement upstairs, heavy footsteps and doors opening and slamming, and had cereal and bowls on the table when Bobby finally made an appearance. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and yawned before slumping into a chair and reaching for the milk.

"Jack still asleep?" she asked.

"Not anymore," he said, and shot her a look that told her he was up to something. A few minutes after that Jack appeared and hovered in the doorway, looking at her uncertainly, before Bobby kicked out the chair next to him and pointed at it with his spoon. "Sit," he said around a mouthful of food. "Eat."

Jack sat but didn't reach for any food until Bobby gave him a glare that set him scrambling.

"We've got a big day ahead of us," he said. "You'll need your strength." His smile was devious and Evelyn felt her own lips pulling up into a smile at the sight of it.

Jack poured a bowl of cereal and poked at it until he looked up and saw the return of the glare Bobby was leveling at him. Then he actually started eating, and Evelyn leaned against the counter with a cup of tea and kept smiling through it all.

"Jack," she said, when he was finishing up. "Do you know where your birth certificate is?"

Jack shook his head but didn't look up. "Bobby already asked me that, but I don't know."

"Is there anyone that could have it? Other foster parents or friends?"

"Isn't the state supposed to take care of that stuff?" he asked, while still studying his empty cereal bowl intently. Bobby took the opportunity to pour him some more.

"Well, yes," she said, "but it seems to have been misplaced. Paul Johnson and I are going to figure it out, but I just thought I'd check with you first."

He stared down at his cereal bowl with a look of distaste, but Evelyn wasn't sure if it was the cereal or the subject that was causing it.

"I don't know where it is," he said, and his grip on the spoon had turned his knuckles white.

Bobby caught her eye and they shared a look.

"Go get ready," Bobby said, kicking his chair again, even though he was still in it. "We're wasting good ice time."

Jack shook himself a bit, then put the spoon down surprisingly gently and fled the room. Evelyn starred after him for a while before joining Bobby at the table.

"Got any ideas what that's about?" she asked.

"A few," he said. "He was pretty sick last night, you know."

Evelyn nodded. "Isn't that a bit extreme for marijuana?"

Bobby shrugged. "Not if it was laced, or if he wasn't always doing marijuana. But we'll take care of it, ma. He'll be fine."

Evelyn took another sip of tea and sighed. "So hockey, huh?" She shook her head at the glee in his eyes. "Bobby Mercer. You better play nice."


End file.
